


Danger

by sootonthecarpet



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootonthecarpet/pseuds/sootonthecarpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bunny receives a minor injury, Raffles mistakenly fears for his friend's life.</p><p>Post <i>No Sinecure</i>, pre <i>An Old Flame</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danger

**Author's Note:**

> I try so hard to title things decently. Oh my god, do I try.

Between terror and more terror, there was a part of me that found it the height of upsetting, ironic humor that we ourselves—Raffles and I—were faced with a burglar in our own home. Upon returning from a successful robbery, we were met with the indistinct figure of a man who seemed to be engaged in rifling through our silverware. My luck has always been ill, and on this occasion I was situated between the fellow and the door. He dropped what he was holding and produced a pocketknife. “Put it away,” Raffles said in a smooth, commanding voice, reaching into his pocket as if to produce a revolver. This had the opposite effect from what was intended, and I found myself shoved roughly aside by the man, and gave a sharp cry as the cold metal of the blade pushed under my arm and cut into me a little below my heart.

I could tell that the wound was quite minor, but I dropped to my knees in shock and terror. Raffles ran after the fleeing man despite a weak protest from me. Alone in the dark and bleeding, I was unable to repress my fear, and surrendered myself to the sense of choking anxiety which occasionally preyed on me when I was most vulnurable. I curled tightly around myself, a hand pressed to the little wound in my side as I struggled to breathe properly. After a while, I heard Raffles’s returning footsteps, rapid and heavy.

“He got away from me… Bunny?” He gasped upon hearing my impaired breathing, and seemingly only then noticed that I was still on the floor.

The lights went on and there was a thud as he crouched beside me. I felt his arms wrap close around my body and drag me to a chair. I gave a little groan of protest when he pulled my hand away from my injury, but found it eclipsed by his own low sound of regret and dismay at the blood on my clothes and palm.

“Bunny…”

I was too breathless to properly speak to him. 

“He’s stabbed you—!”

I looked at his face and found it whiter than his hair. I managed to say his name, but he ignored me and began pulling away my clothing. At last he had me stripped to the waist, and after a brief glance at my wound (which was bleeding liberally) he pressed his handkerchief against it with a look of desperation. He had made quite a mess of things, and my profuse bleeding had stained his hands and cuffs red. I struggled again to control my breathing and tugged at his wrist, trying to put my own hand over the injury. He gave it to me and cupped my face. “Don’t worry, my rabbit,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll fetch Theobald—you shall be fine—!”

“Raffles!” I exclaimed loudly with a tremendous effort of will, and in a voice that was definitely not that of a dying man. He met my eyes and clasped my hand, staring at me with a stunned intensity. “Raffles, stop panicking and listen to me…!”

He swallowed and nodded.

“Look at the wound again—“ I winced. “You’ll quickly find it is only a cut.” My breath was beginning to come back to me and I used it as freely as I could manage. “These difficulties are due to terror and surprise—physically, I am fine.”

He swallowed again and touched my cheek with a look of true fear. “Bunny,” he said quietly.

“We can easily set me right with a damp cloth, dressings, sticking plaster, and a strong drink,” I said as firmly as possible. He nodded an unsteady acknowledgement and took my handkerchief from my pocket. He was gone for a few minutes, during which I kept his handkerchief pressed to my cut and worked towards calming myself. He returned and peeled back his handkerchief, then began carefully wiping the blood away.

“You’re right,” he breathed, sounding like I had taken the weight of the world from his back.

“I know…”

He looked at me with the colour beginning to return to his cheeks and a lost, helpless expression that would have awed me had I not been so distracted. I guided his hand towards the small pile of soft white fabric on the table, and he came back to himself with a little start. Soon my wound was snugly dressed and he was cleaning the smudges of blood from my face with a look of embarrassment at having put them there. Finally he was cleaning up the room and helping me to the sofa, and I sank into the cushions and a deep, irresistable slumber.

Upon waking in the early afternoon I found him looking as though he had slept very little. He took my hand and lifted it as if he really had come close to loosing me, and I grabbed his wrist tightly before he could, as usual, sink embarrassed back into a semblance of his old fey and uncaring manner.

“I say, my rabbit, I’m sorry for overreacting,” he said with an attempted levity, as if it was his line in a play and he was not sure how it went.

“You thought I had been stabbed in the lungs, then?”

He looked ashamed of his misinterpretation as he nodded.

“There there, Raffles, I understand your mistake, and it’s not as though you’re a doctor.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“I think I’ve never seen you quite so upset over me,” I said, in a tone as casual as I could make it.

He flushed. “I really do apologize for the mistake, Bunny.”

“No, Raffles…” I pulled his hand a little closer to me, drawing him to sit beside me on the sofa. “I’m quite touched.” I put it mildly for his sake. 

He looked at me a bit uneasily.

I met his eyes. “I know you care about me more than you let on, although I don’t know how much more… I’ve grown used to your discomfort at showing your hand, but I always relish moments when you let me know how you feel for reasons other than maniplation.”

He frowned and took his hand away. “I doubt you’d want to see how I feel.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I sighed heavily. “Raffles, I get very little from you, but I have been your devoted friend for years. I would like nothing better than to see you reciprocate my feelings, to and even beyond their depth.”

He scoffed. “We shall see the truth of that,” he said bitterly and took my face between his hands. I was certain he was going to kiss me, and I delighted in it, but there was a moment of hesitation during which I felt the chilling vestiges of the dismay and heartbreak which might await me if he drew away.

“Go on, Raffles,” I said quietly, hoping to encourage him. Years of desperate pining and vague innuendo had been building up to this moment, and I was afraid he might recoil, or even laugh.

He gazed at me with an intense, pained expression, then wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close in an embrace.

He struggled with himself for several moments and finally he spoke into my ear. “I care for you more than I can say… Whatever my reason may be for keeping silent, I trust you will respect it.”

“Demand my respect, you mean,” I answered him quietly. “But there are other things we might do to express ourselves than speak.”

“Bunny, you must say what you mean,” he said thickly, “Or in my joy I shall misinterpret you and make fools of us both.”

“Shh.”

“Bunny…”

I held the back of his head lightly and pressed my mouth to his. He hugged me tightly with a soft moan.

I winced as his arm pressed against my sore wound, and he made a small apologetic noise as he released me.

“For the first time in my life, Raffles, I think I am genuinely aware of how you feel towards me.”

He blushed slightly and looked at the nearest wall.

“Now, Raffles, shall I continue my nonverbal elaboration, or have I made myself clear…?”

He gave a breathless laugh and pressed me down against the seat of the sofa, kneeling across my thighs and liberally kissing my face until I caught his chin and pulled him into another kiss, this one a great deal more intimate. He responded ideally, if perhaps a little too enthusiastically—he nearly persuaded me to have my way with him in the sitting room, and it was only thanks to my rising and providing him with a very specific and rather wicked suggestion that he jumped up and happily dragged me into bed with him. 

My cut took a long time to heal, although I suppose the almost daily vigorous exertion of our activities contributed to that. He changed my dressing often, although I’m sure it was as much for an excuse to undress me as it was out of medical concern. I didn’t mind in the slightest, of course. We had several years of dissatisfaction to make up for. His talk of being unable to tell me his feelings quickly crumbled away, and to my delight I found him proclaiming undying love for me within a week. Those months of my life with him were glorious; I do not think that I have been happier before or since.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending on this is a little weak, I couldn't work out where to take it after Raffles took Bunny to bed.


End file.
